


Learning to Breathe

by oopsgingermoment



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, I've been dying to post a fic for weeks but finally managed to edit the stupid thing, Inner Dialogue, Síora is the ultimate wingwoman, We respect historical accuracy in this household, place sappy love song here, sliiiiiiiiiight mention of Kurt's sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 12:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20948132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oopsgingermoment/pseuds/oopsgingermoment
Summary: Kurt reminisces his past with Daphne back on the continent and then proceeds to brood, not knowing what has been waiting for him. Síora helps a girl out with finding her voice. Hearts are exposed, and hopes rise.





	Learning to Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! Welcome to my first of many Greedfall pieces. I'm trash for Kurt and this is the result of it. If you haven't finished the game, this won't spoil the ending, but it might spoil other things depending on where you're at in the game.  
It should be worth noting that I've decided to base my universe in the second half of the 17th century. This will relate to clothing, food, and other such terminology (and yes, this applies to all my Greedfall fics, not just this one). tl;dr I AM GOING TO BE HISTORICALLY ACCURATE EVEN IF IT KILLS ME.  
But in any case, please enjoy. :)

The years had blended together until Kurt no longer knew where one began or another ended. For a long time, youth continued to flow hotly in his blood, and his temper still refused to be restrained even at the best of times. He could remember how bitter he was after being assigned as the prince’s family guard dog. “I can fight better than anyone in the barracks. You know I can. Why give the job to someone who can do better?” he’d arrogantly demanded before being reprimanded by his commanding officer.

“You think there’ll be no fighting? The prince was nearly assassinated two months ago! We need loyal men like you who can watch the backs of his family if we want to protect Sér ène from falling into a pit of chaos . Specifically for you, you’ll be in charge of his son and niece.”

A freshly promoted sergeant, Kurt frowned and folded his arms across his chest. “And what is expected of me?” He tried not to sound more bitter than he’d already made apparent.

“Guard them, naturally, but the Prince also wants you to train them. He wants them capable of fending for themselves should the worst happen and you’re not there.”

And train them he did. He trained them hard. Lady de Sardet had more of a knack for it than Prince Constantin. Kurt shouldn’t have been surprised. Her ladyship was already a talented rider of large horses and she had been born with some strong magic. No one could tell him where it all came from; Her Highness didn’t possess the gift nor anyone else in the family. Perhaps the girl’s late father? She’d been born with a strange birthmark as well. It took great effort not to look at it for a long time.

Kurt grew older, and with it came wisdom—and hopefully less arrogance. He stopped resenting his position after a while, having shot up in the ranks like a prodigy of war despite his role as master of arms. In all that time, Constantin and Daphne adopted him as one of their own, dragging him to concerts and stage productions at the theatre on the regular in Sérène when he wasn’t drilling them to exhaustion. He found the performances rather dull, as did his charges. The three of them wound up sneaking card games when the Prince wasn’t looking, shrill opera drowning out their bets and curses.

His first assassination attempt occurred at Constantin’s thirteenth birthday celebration. Daphne looked lovely in her green silk, a string of pearls looping around her neck and diamonds dripping from her earlobes while her dark hair was pinned to her head. She was still a girl in his eyes, but she was flowering into a beautiful young lady. The court’s young—and old—men were taking notice. Kurt thought murderers would be the real threats, but it just might be lustful suitors instead. It made him gag, gripping the hilt of his sword a little bit tighter. Just in case. Men could be animals.

Shrieks immediately alerted him from his thoughts. A man he did not recognize was dressed as a guard, a knife in his hand as he was clamoring over the dining table toward Constantin. Daphne had shouted out her cousin’s name, having pulled a knife of her own—sweet gods, had she been hiding that in her  _ stays _ ?—and locked blades. With a free hand, the lady used a strong force of magic to shove back the assailant, allowing Kurt room enough to pummel the stranger into the ground and restrain him.

Despite the horror of that day, Kurt couldn’t be prouder of Daphne. A lady pretty as a picture had been able to defend her cousin on her own, just as he’d trained her. Fire burned in her bright green eyes. She would have killed the assassin herself if she’d the time to do it, he was certain of it. No one had seen her coming. Not with her carefully curled hair and her soft little hands, stuffed in a gown that could swallow her slight frame. The only thing she couldn’t hide was her birthmark, so strange and prominent. Kurt heard whispers from time to time. “It’s so  _ ugly _ ,” one courtier would say.

“Do you think it is a mutation of the Malichor?”

“Hardly. She’d be dead by now if it was.”

“With a mark like that, I’d rather be dead anyway.”

Laughter.

  
  


Kurt was looking at the lady in question now. The mark was all too familiar after all these years, spread across her jaw like moss, and finally they knew why it was there. He saw the way other  _ on ol menawí _ looked, Síora included. Antlers sprouting from their scalps, their skin turning into what looked to him like old tree bark. He was too afraid to ask permission to touch Daphne’s cheek in order to satisfy his curiosity, but he was sure the texture would feel the same. He wanted to touch her elsewhere too, to kiss her soft lips and stroke his fingers through her long dark hair.

Traitor. He was a captain of the Coin Guard, protector of Constantin d’Orsay and Daphne de Sardet, entrusted by his prince and commander to protect them, and here he was, longing for a young woman far above his station. Who was he kidding? Constantin’s court was filled with suitors who would do anything for Lady de Sardet’s hand. He’d be lucky to just get in the back of the line.  Sighing, Kurt stood up from his spot by the fire, mumbled something crass about relieving himself, and wandered off to the outskirts of the camp. Had he looked back, he would have seen Daphne’s eyes on him, her own longing evident on her soft face. But he was not a mind reader, and so he was gone, leaving naught but his heart behind.

“ _ Carants _ .”

Daphne nearly jumped out of her skin. Síora crouched beside her, a hand on her friend’s knee. “I’m sorry, Síora. I’m… distracted,” the legate muttered. Her fingers twisted around a strand of long black hair.

“I know. He stares when you don’t look, you stare when he does not look. It would be better if you just talked and figured yourselves out.” The  _ doneigad  _ did not express disdain, only concern. It was moments like this where Daphne was grateful to have a kindred spirit in the other woman. It made her burden a little less debilitating.

“It’s complicated, Síora. Kurt and I…. Things are different on the continent. I was raised with the most important family in Sérène; Kurt is a commoner. It wouldn’t be accepted—”

“Why does it matter who accepts it or not? Would these people stop you from making him your  _ Minundhanem _ ?”

Daphne bit her lip. “My uncle would probably strip me of my title, for starters,” she accounted with a tone of humor, but Síora only scoffed.

“You do not need those fancy names. None of the  _ renaigse _ do. But you are one of us as well as one of theirs. You could return to your mother’s village and help our people stay strong.  _ Cengots _ would follow you wherever you choose to go. You know he would.”

“And Constantin?” Daphne clenched her eyes shut. Her poor cousin, sickening with the Malichor while she traversed across Tír Fradí in a desperate search for the cure to save him. She had lost her mother—the woman who raised her—already; she couldn’t bear to lose him too.

Síora squeezed her friend’s hand. “It is your choice, Daphne, not mine. But you know what I think. If he is who you want, if you know he will make you happy, then you should find him and tell him so. He is one of the good ones. You and I know it.”

Daphne bit her lip and glanced toward the row of trees that Kurt had disappeared into. Her hands balled into tiny fists.  _ You are a fully grown woman, Daphne. What is the point of eyeing the same man for the better part of a decade if you won’t do anything about it? _ she thought angrily to herself. Decide her pounding heart, she rose to her feet and gave chase into the forest, practically feeling Síora’s smile at her back.

Her footfalls were light, but Kurt must have heard her, for he emerged from the shadows. His pale blue eyes were piercing into her very soul as he inquired, “Green Blood, do you need something?” Daphne shivered. He was rough on every edge, but she loved him that way. All the fops and the pretty lords could never hold a candle to her guardian.

“Kurt,” she whispered, her voice shaking. His eyebrows pressed close together.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded lightly, and like a frightened cat cat, she dodged her original intention entirely. “I…. Now that you have taken care of Major Hermann, have you begun to think of the future?” Daphne wordlessly cursed herself. This was far from what she had been going for.

Kurt, while perplexed, did not shy away from her question. “Yes. For the first time I feel free to do so,” he confirmed, leaning against a tree that stood behind him. His burly arms folded across his broad chest, unintentionally looking much larger than he already was, although his features were softened with delight at his potential prospects.

Daphne swallowed her pride and pushed back every little thing her mother and uncle had taught her to be. “I hope I will be a part of it,” she admitted, voice small.

Kurt nearly fell over. Daphne had pursued him before, first expressing an interest in him the day they left Sérène. At first, he thought she intended for a night of pleasure. It was not something he could interest himself with. He remembered that first girl and their messy, hasty dalliances, but after what Hermann did to him, he’d grown so scared of being hurt again. But Daphne was different. She was gentle and kind. She helped him burn his abuser to ash and bone. “I must admit that I find it difficult to believe that someone as gracious as you may have found an interest in someone like me. But… nothing would make me happier.”

“Kurt, I should tell you: I’ve… fancied you for a long time.” Dragging the words out were like pulling teeth.

“What?”

Daphne glanced down at her hands, fingers twisting worriedly. “It started as childish infatuation. All the girls at court were swooning over my new, ruggish master of arms, so tall and striking. I was one of them. Of course, once the shiny new toy changed hands, their attention moved elsewhere. I tried to be the girl my mother raised me to be, dancing in gilded ballrooms with well-lords and princes who could pay for the proper dowry. But you know me, I’d never cared for that sort of thing. My attraction toward you returned. It only became stronger with time. Attraction became affection, and affection became….” She faltered.

Of all the things to come from her sweet mouth. May the gods preserve him. “I’m glad you came to see me, now that you’re here. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this for quite some time,” he started carefully.  _ Please don’t let me be an idiot. Please don’t let this be a dream. _

“I’m listening.” Daphne was mentally chanting her own prayers.

Kurt’s mouth opened, but words did not come. He couldn’t stop gazing down at her. Daphne was so beautiful, so much more than anything he could ever deserve. After great effort, he finally croaked out, “And now it seems the proud warrior cannot find the right words. Such a fool….” His jest made her smile, his condemnation etching soft empathy into her features. It was enough encouragement for him to continue. “I, um… I know I was your master of arms for a long time. You were young then. But now you have become a beautiful and  _ fascinating _ young lady. And….” Kurt cleared his throat, steeling himself.  _ Pull yourself together, dammit. It’s now or never. _ “Would you like to spend some time with me one night, away from the others? Alone?”

If it hadn’t been for two decades of being reared into a noblewoman, Daphne probably would have leapt into his arms then and there, smothering his beautiful face in kisses. She instead reeled herself in and whispered shakily, “I would like that. Meet me outside my room the next time we return to the house.”

“I’ll be there! And, uh, I can’t wait.” Kurt couldn’t hide his eagerness. Out of all the chances, this marvellous woman wanted him. If he  _ was _ dreaming, he’d kill the man who tried to wake him up. He worshiped Daphne, and when he’d been assigned to assassinate her and Constantin, it shattered his heart. Constantin didn’t deserve to die for even so much as hurting a fly, and Daphne…. He could never hurt her, intentionally or otherwise. No, he would never betray her.

Daphne’s smile returned. “Me too,” she whispered. Their eyes locked, green to blue. She wanted to kiss him desperately, but they’d been away for too long. The others would look for them. “We must go,” reminded him. Kurt nodded. She was right. He wanted these moments with Daphne to be theirs, even the little ones. He followed his lady back to the fire. The only difference now was that he did not look away when she caught him staring.

_ I love you, Daphne, _ he thought to himself. She would hear it one day, but for now, it was his own little secret.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted something a little more in-depth with Kurt's proposition, so this is what came from it. A dash of angst couldn't be helped. lol I love these two so much and it's been really hard not to romance him again in my second playthrough.  
More fics are coming. Idk when I'll be able to drag myself from this specific pit of hell, but Kurt lovin' is abound and Daphne is president of his fan club. :P Anyway, thank you for reading and please don't forget to comment! :D


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